Carrie found herself being smashed and reshaped by the pressing matching a few dozen more times before it finally seemed to stop. Being rapidly transformed into a series of very different object was a disorienting experience, and she knew that her head would be spinning if she still had one.
The object that had been (and technically still was) Carrie was filled with dreadful anticipation at learning what dreadful new form if had been given.
"A-ha! Told you I was the best at this!" the capybara man shouted to the rest of the factory. "This is the quickest Toon-ahole manufacturing in history!"
"T-toon-ahole?! That's basically what I already was! I don't wanna be just a pussy!" That wasn't entirely true though, but Carrie was forgiven for not knowing the subtle differences between an unfortunately-compacted young woman and the top-of-the-line male masturbation aid in ToonWorld. Of course, knowing this wouldn't have helped or mattered overall.
Most freshly-manufactured Toonaholes are fairly tame after their procedure. They just lay there quivering and oozing, eagerly awaiting the first fuck of their new lives. Instead, a panicked Carrie realised she could now move and attempted to escape. This went about as well as you'd expect. The fat flesh-coloured tube writhed around on the tiled floor to no avail. Meanwhile, the replica of her delicate labia produced a constant stream of exaggerated slurping and shlorping sounds as Carrie tried to call for help.
"Yeeesh, this one really needs to be trained, huh" the capybara man said as he effortlessly plucked Carrie's new form away from her great escape. "Hey training guys, this oone needs to full works!' he exclaimed, tossing Carrie into a large metal chute.
The next week of Carrie's new existence was a mind-breaking crash-course in how to be a good little toony fucktoy. Conveyor belts ferried her from lesson to lesson. Remedial 24-hour rough fucking. Large insersions 101. Introduction to being inflated like a balloon. Carrie had always been a bit of an overachiever, and that's one of the few things that she got to keep in her pussied form. She passed every class with flying colours, with a major in "lying pathetically still with your owners cum dribbling out".
The graduation ceremony was unfortunately brief. Carrie was branded with her results and her graduate name, "Cunty Carrie", before being shipped back to her hotel for a lifetime of service. Cassie would have obviously felt hopelessness and fear at the prospect of her entire existence being boiled down to nothing more than a hole to fuck and throw away. She'd be desperately hoping that her husband would somehow save her from a life of endless rape.
However, Carrie didn't exist anymore. There was only Cunty Carrie now, and she (or more accurately, it) was nothing but excited. She was a Toonahole now, the best and proudest conscious fleshlight ever to exist! A perfect little object that was always willing, excited, and dripping wet for whoever wanted to use it!
One part of tattered little shred of Carrie's mind mind managed to survive the brain-mangling training. "I wonder if John will ever find me" Cunty Carrie schlicked to itself. "I wonder if he'd be gentle or rough. I wonder how clean he'd keep me. I wonder if he'd rent me a second time. I wonder if..."